


Homeless in New York

by hannigramqueen



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hannibal frantically searches for him, Will is homeless and on the streets, Will is in danger all the time, Will leaves post fall, angst and loneliness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25652344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannigramqueen/pseuds/hannigramqueen
Summary: Will fails to connect with Hannibal after their fall and believes leaving is his best option. He heads to New York but he fails to find work, has no money and ends up on the streets. Hannibal frantically searches for him.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43





	1. The road to New York

After the fall Will and Hannibal survive, but instead of doing what they both know they really want to do, they part ways. Both injured, but treated for their injuries by Chiyoh, who plucked them out of the Atlantic, they fail to connect for some reason, and after a few days of avoiding each other, Will feels he has only one option. In the dead of night, fleeing from the cabin they are holed up in, he works his way on foot to the main road, which is about four miles, he manages to hitch a lift from an all night trucker.

He’s in a bad way, he know this, and so does the trucker. Wills face is swollen, the stitches pulled taut, and he can barely move his right arm, the shoulder is so damaged. He falls asleep until the driver nudges him awake. The truck has stopped at a diner. Bob, the trucker, speaks for the first time since he’d introduced himself, over a hundred miles ago.

“What can I get you, buddy? They do a good steak and mash, always have it when I stop here. My treat.”Bob is in his late fifties, not what you’d exactly call a looker, but he’s got a kindness in him, and Will has a lump in his throat when he replies.

“Mm, sorry I can’t chew, my mouth. Would you bring me a coffee, and maybe some soup?” He does his best to smile, although it’s the last thing he wants to do. In truth his heart is breaking. He feels the loss of Hannibal like a knife in his gut. Again.

Bob nods, and tells Will he’ll be right back. He is back, but not for about ten minutes. Will panicks a little, worried that Bob has seen him on the news or something, but when he returns he’s holding a large mug and a carton with soup. Chicken by the smell. Also a bread roll.

“Here, soak the bread in the soup. It’ll be easy to eat and fill you up more than just the soup on its own.”

Will sits as upright as he can in the truck’s cab, puts the coffee on the dash, and Bob hands him the soup.

“I’m going back for my meal. Won’t be too long, then we can get back on the road. You sure you want to go all the way to New York? Nobody back there waiting for you?”

“New York’s great, thanks. I’m looking to break from the somebody’s in my life, but thanks Bob. You’re a good guy, taking me in, state of me and all.” Will looks Bob in the eye, to show he means it. He always found eye contact hard, but when used properly it is easier to show you mean to be honest.

Bob, clearly embarrassed, just mumbles something unintelligible and heads back. Will eats the soup, and Bob was right, the bread is easy to eat this way, just slops from sitting in the soup, but it fills a void in his stomach.

When he’s finished, Will let’s himself out of the cab and heads into the diner to return the mug. The server takes the mug from him, looking at his cheek and grimacing.

“You the young man Bob picked up? Honey, someone did a number on you. Hope it heals nice, pretty face like yours, be a shame for a big scar to spoil it. Restrooms over there, help yourself. Bob’s nearly done, join him if you like. I’ll bring you some cream pie?”

Will headed to the restroom, relieved himself, and as he was washing his hands he caught sight of himself in the mirror over the sink. She was right, he did look rough. He was never particularly vain, but Will knew his looks bought him purchase in many of the worlds he’d been in. In the force, as a youngster, the women on the streets looked out for him, in grad school, he’d been able to get close to his tutor’s and gain work as a TA when others couldn’t, helping stretch his meagre funds a little further. And Hannibal. He’d initially been drawn to Will for his empathy disorder, but he was also drawn to Will because he appreciated beautiful things. And Will knew, that he was beautiful to some, and to Hannibal in particular. Well, he didn’t need to be beautiful any more. He wanted to be anonymous, and there was nowhere better to be anonymous than New York.

When he emerged from the restroom Bob beckoned him over. There was a piece of banana cream pie sitting waiting for him.

“I forgot to tell you about the pie. Just eat the soft bit. Put some sticky on those ribs lad.” Will hadn’t the heart to say he was thirty eight. He was right, though, the pie was good. Creme patisserie on the base and whipped cream on the top. He couldn’t manage the banana or pastry but he ate the rest.

“That was great, Bob. I’m sorry, I don’t have any money to pay. I can offer to wash the dishes, if you get my check, or I can help you unload when we get to New York. I pay my way.” Will hadn’t thought to take any cash from Hannibal and Chiyoh. He wasn’t exactly thinking straight when he’d left.

Bob just shook his head. “Son, if I’d worried about that I’d not have bought you any food. I told you it was my treat. As for helping me unload, they do that for me when I get to the warehouse. I just sit and drive, and even though up to now you’ve been lacking a bit in keeping me company, I suspect you might be a bit more chatty now you’ve got some food in your belly. Meet me back at the truck. I’m just gonna take a piss.”

Will laughed, nodded, and left Bob to his business and he headed back to the truck. He climbed up into the passenger seat and let out a huge breath. He had a feeling he’d be ok. He just hoped Hannibal was ok with Chiyoh.


	2. Bob Fisher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will gets to New York and changes his name. Things don’t go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I have no idea if the rules re working on the docks are even close, I think I got some of my ideas from the Wire.

Bob was right, Will was a lot more talkative for the rest of the journey, although it’s all relative. Will does make some small talk, and dodge a few friendly but inquisitive enquiries about who Will is and what he’s running from. He does tell Bob he’s looking for a fresh start, and is hoping to find work on the New York docks. He tells him about how he loves to fix boat motors. They make one more stop, and Will eats more soup and drinks more coffee. Bob brings his all day breakfast out to eat with Will in the truck’s cab. Will asks Bob about his family.

“Wife died three years ago. I mostly live in my truck, don’t really have any other family. Martha was my world. She was a quiet woman. We were together for thirty years. The cancer got her. She couldn’t have kids. Shame really, she would’ve made a great mother. Must admit, it would’ve been nice to have a son. Or a daughter I guess, although I guess daughters are harder, need to be protected more. I’d get in trouble for saying that I suppose. I sold the house when she passed, bought this truck. The old one was clapped out. It’ll do me until I’m too old to work. Saving an nest egg for retirement. Think I’ll go to Florida. Sit and fish until I die.”

Will looked at Bob, overtaken by emotion with all he’d told him. He was also surprised about the fishing.

“I love to fish too. In fact, you seem to be planning exactly what I’d love to do in retirement too. Maybe we can keep in touch. I like you, Bob, and I don’t say that about many people.” And Will did like him. The man was so open to Will, sharing both the ride, food and his story. And if Will’s father had still been alive, he liked to think he’d be like Bob.

“I’ll let you have my number. I’d like to keep in touch. You’ve not really told me much, but something tells me you need all the friends you can get, lad.”

They set off on the road again, and after an hour of start stop driving due to the heavy traffic, they arrived at New York. Bob dropped Will at the docks, and much to his embarrassment Bob gave Will some cash. And Will accepted.

“No much I’m afraid but it might keep you going a night or two in a motel until you find work. I don’t really have any contacts here, otherwise I’d find you some digs.” Bob had handed Will five hundred dollars. Will had a lump in his throat. He shook Bob’s hand and walked away, glancing back one, with a wave.

Will decided he needed to clean himself up before looking for work, so he rented a room at a cheap hotel. Fifty dollars a night and he gave a fake name. He borrowed Bob’s first name, and Fisher as his surname. He really liked that name, but he’d be in trouble if he was asked to prove his identity. He decided he could get away with it if he could go to the records office and find another Bob Fisher, and ask for a copy of a birth certificate. A long shot, and not without risks, but as it was such a common name he thought it might just work. First to the telephone book, to see if he could find an address, and as luck would have it, there were four Bob Fisher’s in New York.

He chose one with a Brooklyn address, and he has no idea how he did it, but he left the records office with a birth certificate for a man close to his own age. It would do for now. Most employers just needed one proof of identity and a proof of address, which he had for now.

After cleaning himself up, Will headed to the docks. He still looked rough, and his face was still a bit swollen, but he needed money and the five hundred was already dwindling.

Will’s luck ran out by the end of the day. He made the walk to the docks only to be turned away from all the various companies represented there. The main problem was that the jobs market was way worse off than he realised. So many unemployed in New York, any jobs went to union men, and Will didn’t have a union card. When he asked how he went about getting one he was told he had to make an application and provide references, one of whom had to be an existing union representative.

He felt really dejected when he got back to his hotel room. He bought a bottle of Bourbon and drowned his sorrows to the point of being sick. He told himself that tomorrow was another day, and he’d do better. He collapsed to bed, head spinning until he fell asleep.

In the morning he woke to an open door. He’d been robbed while he slept.The money and the rest of the bourbon was gone. He was lucky he’d only been robbed and he guessed that whoever broke into his room had seen him passed out and decided he was no threat. Already dressed, and check out time approaching he had no option but to leave the room. He couldn’t exactly go the the cops, he was fairly certain he was a fugitive in at least two states.

Will walked the streets for an hour when he came across a soup kitchen. He had no choice, he guessed he was now on the streets, like so many, and at least there were sufficient charitable institutions to make sure he at least had food in his belly. He took no shame in this, while he lined up and accepted with gratitude some coffee in a styrofoam cup and some oatmeal. There were tables lined up and he chose to sit at the end of one, head down, trying to stay under the radar.

He asked what time they were there again and was told by an older lady with a kind face that he could get soup at eight that evening before he bedded down. That gave him the whole day to look in shop windows and check the help wanted ads to see if he could find some work. Judging form the many hundreds of vagrants, some dragging cases, shopping trolleys and even some with children, he saw he thought this unlikely.

The most difficult part of his day was finding a bathroom to relieve himself. He didn’t even look like he’d been on the streets yet but the cafe and coffee shop owners seemed to sense he had no cash to make a purchase and he was ushered out of many places with restrooms. Luckily he was fairly dehydrated and hadn’t eaten much so he managed until he eventually ended up back at the soup kitchen, where they let them all use the bathrooms in the community hall next to the kitchen.

That night he decided to situate himself next to a few other homeless people for safety. He had found some cardboard to lay on. He’d grabbed a blanket from the soup kitchen, which were being handed out, and bed down for the night. Tomorrow was another day. He wasn’t completely beaten yet.

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, Hannibal was frantically trying to work out where Will went. Chiyoh had informed him that Will had fled and she had tracked him to the road, where there were signs that a large vehicle had picked him up.

Still too injured to do much but shout and bellow at Chiyoh for not stopping Will from leaving, he started checking the media to see if Will had handed himself in. There were no news reports beyond the initial report that he and Will were missing but not yet confirmed dead. Freddie Lounds hadn’t posted anything significant. His only conclusion was that Will was out there on his own, hurt and isolated for everyone.

“Chiyoh, make plans for us to leave today. I won’t hear of any objections. We will follow the direction he travelled and find clues on the way.”

He could see Chiyoh wasn’t happy about this but true to form, she started making the arrangements.


End file.
